


Unexpected, Stella's POV

by Shatterpath



Series: Unexpected [1]
Category: Bionic Woman (2007), CSI: NY, Leverage
Genre: Crossover, F/F, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is my crack!fic prompt, from my pal, Geekgrrllurking.</p><p>Stella (CSI:NY) and Ruth (Bionic Woman) are accidentally handcuffed together and must find Parker (Leverage) who has the key. Parker meanwhile is hidden away with Lindsay (Women's Murder Club) for a naughty weekend away together. How do they end up getting out of their handcuffs?</p><p>Yeah, wrap your brain around <i>that</i> one! This version is much expanded from the original, because I couldn't just leave well enough alone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected, Stella's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Archive permission to Shatterstorm Productions and Archive of Our Own only, please.

"Listen, I don't know who the hell you are, but you better start explaining and fast."

The blonde woman, a few years older than I and even harder around the eyes and mouth with experience, looks so embarrassed that I feel like I'm waiting for the hidden cameras and an obnoxious host to jump out. When she raises placating hands, I'm reminded of our bizarre dilemma.

Just moments ago, I was roughly jostled by a nondescript woman, blonde I think, who I realize now did more than walk into me by 'accident'. My wallet, keys and phone are gone and my right wrist is shackled to this stranger.

"I'm afraid this is a practical joke gone awry. From behind, you look remarkably like a coworker of ours," the woman cuffed to me is explaining. "You fooled us both and I was standing right next to you. Though this is pretty sloppy of Parker, I have to admit."

"Wait, wait," I snap in exasperation. "A practical joke? Are you serious?"

The woman smiles sheepishly, shrinking away from my ire. "Parker has a weird sense of humor and I hate to admit that I've been goading her lately. Something tells me that this has gone too far."

My murderous glare is answer enough.

Over coffee, awkward with my right hand trapped under the table, my knuckles brushing hers, I finally get more of the story. "Parker used to be a professional thief and an incredibly good one. Now she tests security systems for my company. I'm her handler, for lack of a better term. She's my only charge, because she's more than enough for even me to handle. And this," she rattles the cuffs, "is exactly her style."

"What's your name," I ask bluntly and her color-change hazel eyes blink, her expression nonplussed. "If I'm going to be embarrassingly chained to you for the foreseeable future and involved in whatever revenge is in store for this prank, I might as well at least get your name. I'm Detective Stella Bonasera, by the way, NYPD."

The eyes drain almost yellow and I have to admit I'm amused as the woman slumps over and raps her forehead against the formica table. Several times.

"Damn you, Parker. Damn you. Oh, why did you have to be a cop?"

The whining is actually pretty funny because I'll bet my badge and a kidney that she's rarely this open. After a moment, she straightens up and meets my level gaze as best she can. "Ruth Truewell. I'm a psychiatrist and former mercenary with an organization I'd rather not name. I left it all behind."

Nodding, I accept the explanation, because as absurd as it might seem in this day and age, her body language is all right for it. "So I look like someone you two work with? Someone involved in this practical joke war?"

Clearly still cripplingly embarrassed over the whole thing, Ruth rakes her free hand through shaggy, short blonde tresses and blows out a heavy sigh. "It's why I had sidled over to you, truthfully. I'd have sworn you were Jackie until just as the cuff snicked closed and Parker was already gone. I really should know better than to goad her on. Dammit…" With a quick growl, she shakes off her mope and the determined look makes me feel better. We'll get out of these silly things sooner rather than later I'll bet. "Without the jacket, you're clearly not Jackie, you're lusher than she is and that hair is even more gorgeous. I swear this whole stupid game started because I don't know who has a bigger crush on her, me or Parker." Stunned, Ruth snaps her teeth together and stares at me with the classic 'deer-in-the-headlights' shock.

I hold in my amusement for a few seconds to string her along before bursting into gales of laughter. "Really, I'm waiting for the camera crew," I admit and Ruth grins a little queasily. "In truth, I'd rather not admit to my team that I was caught off guard enough to be in this position in the first place. So let's come up with a plan, shall we?" Ruth nods enthusiastically, her expression pathetically grateful. "Besides, you need to up the ante enough that she doesn't want to play anymore, right?"

"Umm, that doesn't exactly work with Parker, I'm afraid."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because she's a borderline sociopath, who thankfully works for the side of good. Well, mostly anyway. Boundaries are tough with her. So are rules, but I can get her to obey if there's a clear reason. Right now, there's no clear reason. You don't seem to be inclined to harm me for all of this, so she won't see that she's gone too far. Besides, we both really thought…"

"I know, I know. Jackie, the mutual crush," I break in, delighting in this tough woman's squirming embarrassment at the confession. "So where do you think this Parker has gotten off to?"

Blinking, Ruth tries to bring her brain back online, her eyes going slightly unfocused as she processes. Then her face falls and I sigh, knowing that the problem just aggravated itself somehow. "God, Stella, I'm sorry. I completely forgot her fuck-buddy is in town and they're off in some isolated cabin somewhere, no doubt screwing like bunnies. Another cop, ironically, from our mutual old stomping ground, before we worked together."

"Could we track the cop buddy?"

"We could try."

Now, the question for me is who is going to give me the least amount of shit for all of this? And can keep the search under the department radar. Any of the guys will give me shit, even Mac, maybe especially Mac. That leaves me with Lindsey. Except that I don't have her number memorized. So I have to track her down. Great.

"Come on, Ruth," I enthuse, getting into the strange game now. Mindful of our wrists, I jump up and she is forced to follow. To prevent any more bruising and chaffing than we already have, I grab her cool hand and slide our intertwined fingers into my coat pocket. At least it's fall, thankfully. In the crisp air, we wander down the street in search of a pay phone. "So, do you work here?" I hear myself ask inanely and Ruth eyes me like I'm insane.

"Are you really gonna chat me up, detective?"

My laughter isn't feigned and I squeeze her fingers. "Since we're connected at the hip, so to speak and must look mighty cozy about now, sure, Ruth, I'm chatting you up."

The pale eyes look down at where our twined hands rest in my pocket before she relaxes and steps in close enough to almost touch shoulders with me. "We were working on that new financial complex in Queens. Happy now?"

Chuckling, I bump shoulders with her. "There, now was that so hard?"

She grumbles, but an authentic smile plays around her well-formed mouth. It's a nice walk, actually, there among some of the city's oldest architecture and trees. "Well, at least we're in the Village," Ruth deadpans with perfect timing so that I splutter into my coffee and glower at her smirking face.

"Smartass," I deadpan and she grins happily. Obviously, she's just glad I'm not threatening her with violence or legal repercussions. Truthfully, once over the shock, I've been caught up in the sheer absurdity of this and I'll take it as the strange 'blind date' it's become. Besides, I swear the woman might be flirting with me, however subconsciously. The feel of her strong hand in mine is nice in a visceral way, too. "You're going to owe me dinner and a crack at lecturing Parker for this, by the way."

"My pleasure, detective."

"Really, Ruth, I think you can move past the formalities now. It's Stella, remember?"

"Okay, Stella. You got it."

Eventually we find a dilapidated pay phone that I reluctantly put to my ear and dig out a few coins Parker thankfully left me. After a frustrating snipe hunt all over the building for Lindsey, at last her blissfully familiar voice comes over the line. "Detective Monroe, can I help you?"

"Oh, Lindsey, thank god."

"Stella?"

"Yes. Listen, I've had a really weird day and I need your help."

"Are you okay?" The instant, overriding concern is heartening and I make a mental note to hug the small woman the moment I get a chance.

"I'm fine. I got caught up in a juvenile prank that lost me my badge, keys and wallet. Seriously, don't ask, I'm not even sure I can fully explain it. The person who has them is here for a weekend with a lover. Ruth, what's the buddy's name?"

"Inspector Lindsay Boxer, San Francisco PD," Ruth supplies dutifully and I repeat it to my Lindsey.

"Look, Lindsey, I don't want to make a big deal of this, I'm embarrassed enough as it is. Since the lover is a cop, I'm not panicking that my badge is going to be used for nefarious purposes, I just want my stuff back."

"But why did they target you?"

"It was a case of mistaken identity. The other half of the joke assures me of that."

A touch on my arm brings my attention to Ruth. "Tell your teammate if she can't find Boxer to track down Cindy Thomas at the San Francisco Register or Jill Bernhardt at the DA's office. They ought to be able to track her down discreetly. Besides, they'll give Boxer so much shit that even Parker might think twice about this sort of thing in the future."

Chuckling, I repeat the pertinent bits to Lindsey and arrange to meet her at a bar I can see nearby. Frankly, I don't care that it's barely eleven a.m. I need a drink. Over cold beer-- Ruth thankfully still has her wallet-- we chat and laugh, barely aware of the implacable metal bracelets that connect us. I like this woman, she's sharp and intelligent and a good conversationalist. As I've suspected from the start, she's more open with me than she would normally be, more animated and funny. After all, what's to hide from a stranger you can't get away from?

When Lindsey steps in, she breaks up the hilarity and I'm on my feet and yanked to a painful halt before I remember my tether. "Must be some practical joke," Lindsey says wryly, the speculation in her gaze promising a thorough questioning at a later date. "Do you want me to see if I can get someone with some really big pliers to snip those?"

Ruth answers with a heavy sigh. "Oh, if only that would work, detective. I'm afraid Parker is just perverse enough to have something made of stuff stronger than mere steel. Besides, there's a weird sheen to the metal of these things."

"Okay," Lindsey concedes, accepting my one-armed hug with a smile. "But you're in for a drive. I found a cabin rental in Boxer's name just outside Catskill."

Groaning and laughing, I jostle Ruth in a friendly way. "Well, at least it's a pretty drive. Think I can steal your car for a bit, Monroe?"

And that is how I find myself skulking around in the near dark, listening with some embarrassment to the sexual shenanigans going on inside. Ruth finishes picking the lock and steps in completely silently. Yeah, I can totally believe her as some sort of mystery-woman mercenary or whatever. She's far too good at this cloak and dagger shit.

My revenge is good when the flash of both cameras start going off, catching Parker and Boxer in 'flagrante delecto', their expressions completely shocked. To my complete amusement, as Ruth palms the light switch, the blonde in the bed stares at me, completely flummoxed. "You're not Jackie," she says almost accusingly.

"Nope," I agree cheerfully and allow the camera to dangle from its cord around my neck. "And you need to be more careful of your marks, girl. Frankly, you're damn lucky I don't run you in for all manner of illegal activities."

Neither of the interrupted lovers moves, their shock too complete. It's amusing to watch their gazes swing from me to Ruth and back and forth.

"Parker!" I finally bark and she jumps guiltily. "The wallet. Did you even look at it?" A shake of her head makes me smile evilly. "Your friend there would recognize what's in it. Only they call us detectives in this city."

Boxer drops back into the bed with a groan, hiding her head under the pillows.

"But you're supposed to be Jackie," Parker repeats helplessly and she's actually starting to look a little upset. Faced with such childlike dismay, I relent a bit.

"Look, the joke went way too far this time, Parker. You have to be more careful. And you really need to listen more closely to Ruth, okay?" Miserable, Parker nods, her expression contrite. Good, that point was easier to make than I had thought. More businesslike now, I ask briskly, "Now, where are the keys? In truth, I'm a little tired of these and would like to use the bathroom in private."

I don't like the look on Parker's face, like a puppy that knows it's done something wrong. "Ummm… I'm really sorry not-Jackie, but the keys are in Ruth's hotel room. Along with your stuff."

My wry look at Ruth is missed as she scrubs both hands over her face, muttering something that might be, 'of course they are.'

"But wait," Parker is hurriedly explaining, jumping away from the disheveled bed and trotting into the other room. Obviously, she doesn't care that she's stark naked and showing signs of the wild night we'd interrupted. "I can get them off. Come sit in the light."

"Robe, Parker!" Boxer hollers and Parker pauses, weighing if it's worth going back, before obeying her lover. Luckily for propriety, she does and returns quickly to pore over the cuffs about our bruised wrists. Then she fiddles with it using tools that are probably illegal in every society on earth.

I carefully keep my eyes averted. Plausible deniability and all that jazz.

The moment the metal falls away, I'm up and rubbing my wrist while I follow instinct to the toilet. I've been ignoring my bladder for too damn many hours and that relief is as great as the release of my trapped bones and flesh. My grin to Ruth is sympathetic as we switch places and I can study Parker. She's cute in that 'girl next door' sort of way, the blue eyes curious and guileless.

"You don't look so much like Jackie," she decides matter-of-factly. "You're way hotter."

I don't fight the chuckle, shaking my head as the exiting Ruth gives me a curious eyebrow. Threading my arm through hers, I drag the unprotesting ex-mercenary towards the door we broke in through. "Come on then, secret agent woman, you owe me dinner. And help with a plausible cover story."

"Yes ma'am," she chuckles.

"Good night, you two!" I can't resist shouting maliciously over my shoulder and can only imagine Boxer's embarrassment. In truth, barring a very sore wrist and some kinky bruises, this has been a great deal of fun. "Next time you're in town, mystery woman," I tease my new pal. "We'll have to hang out again."

"Without the cuffs?" Ruth says wryly and our laughter escorts us all the way back to the car.

 

**Part 2**

Mac tells me that he always knows when I've gotten a message from 'your mercenary' as he refers to her. There's a bounce in my step and I smile all day. No shock there, as Ruth is funny as hell. The running gags about handcuffs alone could have sustained us in our long-distance friendship thus far. Hell, even Parker sends me email ever so often. It's sort of like talking to a child with very adult tendencies; fascinating and slightly disturbing. After speaking with Inspector Boxer and handing over a CD with the pictures on it to alleviate her worry, we haven't spoken again. Which is perversely amusing in and of itself.

A week after the 'handcuffs incident', I stole Lindsey and baby Lucy away to a day spa with five star rated childcare and spoiled my pal for bailing me out. I know she had to duck some persistently curious questions from Danny. A girls day out was the least I could do. It's also been nice to have someone to tell the whole, sordid tale to, no holds barred, no detail left unprocessed. While Lindsey understandably doesn't find the whole thing nearly as funny as I do, she's a good ear and chuckles along.

So, odd as it might be, Ruth is never very far from my thoughts. And the woman has the most uncanny sense of timing, sending me a quip in text message after a tough day, calling me to coax a smile when I'm frustrated with a case. As fall became winter, she calls me from more and more exotic locations and I'm jealous of the warmth she has. Even now, I remember her chuckling in that throaty way just a few days ago over my phone. "Trust me, Stel, Jamaica is only fun if you're not working. And tracking Parker's movements is no picnic."

Yes, Parker still drives her to distraction, but she's affectionate about the girl. And she did indeed stop the worst of the practical jokes, as did the mysterious Jackie once she heard the pertinent bits of what happened here in New York.

It's almost spring now, I noticed the trees are budding all over town. The bite in the air is less sharp and more damp. Pretty soon the snow will become rain and the ice to mere wet. With a day off and nothing to do, I wander off to Central Park to kill some time and enjoy the reawakening trees. My best winter wardrobe and a cup of steaming coffee along with a beautifully crisp late morning make for a lovely, relaxing walk. I find myself strangely missing the brief, intense feel of Ruth's hand in mine.

Strange thoughts like that flash through my brain periodically, but I don't give them too much deliberation. We shared an intense snapshot of time and it left a powerful impression on me, that sense of danger mingled with childish fun. I don't lighten up nearly often enough, so I savor the moments when I can.

"Y'know, sunshine is overrated anyhow," calls out a voice I know all too well. Though, even as I jerk around in shock, I can hardly believe it. Perched on one of the ubiquitous low stone walls that flank so much of the park, is the very person I've been musing over. The wry, lopsided grin gets me moving, trotting across the snowy ground to surprise Ruth with a tackling full body hug that nearly knocks her off her perch and sends my coffee to its death in the snow.

"Hi," I mumble into her fine camel hair coat, feeling unaccountably shy, clinging to her lanky body. "You snuck up on me."

"I did," Ruth chortles softly, returning the hug. In this position she's unnaturally taller than myself, but I don't mind. "Lindsey was very helpful in that."

Leaning back to glare into the laughing hazel eyes, which are gentle and warm and darker than I remember, I complain mockingly. "At least it wasn't Mac. He teases me enough about you, dammit."

We're both surprised at the pair of tears that abruptly trickle down my cheeks. Instantly all concern, Ruth grips me tighter. "Hey, you okay?"

Sniffling, strangely uncaring of the lack of worry over my flustered, emotional state, I just shrug. "Just happy to see you."

Some indefinable emotions flits over Ruth's strong face and she grips me close once more, letting my tears wet her fine coat. Later I might feel silly over getting so emotional, but right now I just wallow in it. Ruth's cheek rubbing against my temple warms me even more, as do her hands, roving over my shoulder blades and petting my curls.

I have no idea how it happens. One moment we're hugging, then I feel the brush of her lips near the corner of my wet eye. Without thinking, I turn into the sweet gesture, seeking more from this fascinating near-stranger. Some logical part of my brain, the one that's not speechless with shock, notes that she's a good kisser, as adept in this as everything else. It's a soft, curious kiss that I deepen, threading my gloved hand into her shaggy, straight locks and just go with the flow. Distantly, I note myself yank my right glove off behind her back so that I can indulge my curiosity at the feel of that fine blonde hair.

With kisses wet and deep and completely intoxicating, I realize that all my strange emotions regarding her has been a classic crush. A thankfully mutual one if her response is anything to go by. Reluctantly, we part only enough to study our contrasting gazes.

"Wow," Ruth mumbles idiotically and my feline side preens that I can reduce her to monosyllables. Roughly clearing her throat, she shakily reaches up to brush away breeze-tossed curls from my eyes. "I've been trying to figure out how to beat back this fascination I seem to have for you. I wasn't expecting this. Not the feelings, not that you apparently might be feeling something too."

"Me either," I agree with a calm that both amazes me and yet feels so… right. "I didn't figure it out until just now. Buy you breakfast, soldier of fortune?"

That wry grin warms me again, her roving hand dropping to tilt my chin up for another warm kiss, this one sweet, not carnal. "I'd love nothing better." Playfully pushing me away, Ruth swings her legs over the wall and stands arrogantly on the sidewalk while I'm left to glance around for the nearest gate. Stymied, I shrug and step back to rush the wall and neatly vault it. Laughing, Ruth applauds and I bow with a flourish. Before I can yank my glove over my now cold and wet hand, she captures it and tucks our intertwined fingers into my pocket. Just like that first time when we so unexpectedly met.

"Remind me to thank Parker," I murmur with a meaningful squeeze to her hand and Ruth just grins. "Have you always been this short?" My sass gets me a none to gentle nudge from her shoulder that makes me stumble a bit and a mockingly sour glare.

"Yes, dammit, I have always been this short. Even Parker's got a centimeter or so on me. Don't gloat, Amazon." The surly tone is belied by her smirk and the twinkle in her eye, so I just laugh freely.

"It's only what looks like a couple inches," I tease. "It's not that bad."

"No, it's not." That mushy tone makes me blush. There is intellectual panic blaring somewhere in my mind. After all she is a woman. But at least at this moment in time, buoyed by the sweetness of her unexpected visit and her kisses, I'm ignoring it. For as cheesy and cliché as it might sound, how can something that feels so right be wrong? Clearing her throat, Ruth rambles at me conversationally and some of the cloying emotion between us dies down a bit. "Despite the gorgeous surroundings, I didn't want to stay. That and my team ganged up on me and basically threw me out. Besides, Parker was probably having company, if you know what I mean." She sounds so much like a distasteful sibling that I have to grin. "We have to be in one another's heads so much that getting away is paramount. So I was impulsive and came here."

"What, you weren't itching to?" I tease and pause at the flustered intensity that shades her eyes closer to the almost feral yellow I remember. I let us both off the hook, gesturing around expansively. "Come on, New York in the winter is irresistible, right?" Ruth just sighs and rolls her eyes and I can't resist pulling her to a stop, ignoring my sane inner voice and dipping down to kiss her right there. It's not really that involved, more exploratory and nuzzling, after all, we are in the middle of the sidewalk. Not that anyone in this town cares. This time I note more of my reactions, stunned by how abruptly turned on I am, burying my face in her shoulder to catch my breath. "Totally unexpected," seems to be explanation enough as Ruth caresses the back of my neck sweetly.

The sweet smell of pastries and good coffee catches our attention not too far from where we started. We chat comfortably over a sticky cinnamon roll too big for one person and a wrap full of chicken, cheese and veggies and cups of gourmet coffee. Ruth obviously likes the finer things, but in a practical way. That's evident in her food choices and the deeply green silk shirt revealed beneath her jacket. Plain, chunky silver jewelry adorns her strong throat and wrists and diamonds flash in her ears. All of it is classy and simple and not at all ostentatious, suiting her perfectly.

At one point while we eat and chat, Ruth jumps as though goosed and immediately fishes into her pocket to pull out a fancy cell phone. With an apologetic glance, she half turns away and answers what is obviously an incoming call. "Yes Alec? God, really? This soon? That idiot. Yes, I know the system is simple enough for a ten year old; clearly this is what makes him an idiot. I figured Elliot would be happy to get back to one of his many ports of call. Oh, I see. Hmmm. No! Dammit, Alec don't you dare wander into the lion's den alone. I don't care how much he yells. Tell Elliot I'll owe him a favor if he'll get the sheik off our ass by going with you. Perfect, tell him that. So are we good? Yes, thank you mom, I'll do that. Goodbye Alec." The fond exasperation at the farewell makes me grin over my coffee cup. Then Ruth's attention is on me again. "Sorry Stella. That was my geek worried over a cranky client. The boys can handle it."

So many questions crowd my mind. They crowd to get out, to be asked and poured over and picked at. But that would be an invasion of privacy to a world that she inhabits and I don't understand. Nor do I really want to. Sometimes ignorance really can be bliss. I like her, I like her company, and I like the way she makes me feel. It will do.

There's a lull in the conversation, as though Ruth is waiting for something. So I decide to take my own best advice and put the phone call out of my mind. "Any plans while you're in town, sexy?"

_Theh mou (My God)_ but it's fun to catch her off guard like that. I grin a feline grin as Ruth blinks, nonplussed, before regarding me thoughtfully. "You are a minx," she compliments matter-of-factly and I giggle. "And, no, no plans. I barely remembered to dress warmly when I left Jamaica. I just really wanted to see you and had some time on my hands."

"Flatterer."

This is how my whole day goes. We wander and goggle like tourists, eat when we get the munchies, drink coffee until we're giddy. Though some of that strange euphoria might be these new feelings swirling in my heart and body; all from this unexpected companion. Like the first time we met, Ruth is excellent company, particularly without the handcuffs, though we're rarely any further apart than the cuffs had allowed us. She's sweet and flattering and seems even more pleasantly baffled than I am at my friendliness. More kisses are stolen here and there and her hand is fairly constantly in mine, with or without the warmth of my pocket.

Twice I see 'business' Ruth and I have to concede overpowering curiosity. Once is another phone call from her geek where she gets irritated and growly at him, her voice sharp and implacable. The change is so abrupt from my friendly pal that I'm both taken aback and sort of turned on. The second time is in line at Macy's where a rude, oblivious shopper visibly pales and backs away at the look she levels on her. I don't help by snerking at the woman's reaction, waving cheekily as she retreats in a flustered huff.

"Rude bitch," Ruth complains placidly and the woman that had been trapped behind the rude bitch chuckles in thanks and sympathy. It's nice not to have to be on full alert all the time, as Ruth apparently makes me look really sloppy. Clearly, I don't do enough 'real' police work. When I explain that to Ruth, she cracks up.

But even Ruth's implacable armor cracks around the edges when the exhaustion of her mysterious life and her impulsive flight here catches up. We're on the subway and she stumbles heavily, blinking away her tiredness, but I see it. Sighing affectionately, I wrap her in a big hug, letting her smaller body rest against mine. "You need a nap, globe trotter." An unladylike snort is her only reply. "Where's your hotel?"

"Dunno. I haven't gotten that far yet."

"Really? Wait, you mean you don't have any luggage or anything?" With a negative sound, Ruth shakes her head against my shoulder. "So let me get this straight. You impulsively hopped on a plane from frickin' Jamaica after working for long enough that clearly even your staff thought you needed a break to come see me?" Nestling my face into the crook of her neck and shoulder, I breathe in our combined scents. "That is by far the sweetest and most ridiculously romantic and slightly stupid thing I've ever heard of."

Ruth only chuckles warmly and gives me a hard squeeze.

**Part 3**

We were content with a quiet ride and then walk back to my building where I'm now catching up on the boring minutiae of my life while Ruth sleeps in my bed in the next room. I'd shoved a t-shirt and sweatpants into her hands and left her alone in the bedroom. It's nearly full dark now and part of me wishes I'd climbed in beside her. In my line of work, no one gets enough sleep on a regular basis.

As though conjured by my thoughts, my phone rings and I snatch it off of the edge of my desk. "Bonasera."

"Hi Stella," Mac greets me pleasantly and my heart sinks. How I was enjoying my time away from the job with this new facet to my life.

"Hey Mac." Bet he doesn't miss my distinct lack of enthusiasm. With a thrum of amusement in his voice, the boss continues on conversationally.

"So Lindsey tells me you have a mystery visitor from out of town. Now, before you go spluttering in outrage, she had good reasons to tell me. Why don't you take tomorrow off? We're staffed decently and I'll call if we need you desperately."

"I don't know who's the worse matchmaker," I snark at my old friend, "you or Lindsey." His laughter is sincere and it makes me smile. "Are you playing tonight? Maybe we'll swing by and you can meet my mercenary."

Once more Mac chuckles and his voice is as warm as I've ever heard it. "Sure, I can be at the club tonight. I look forward to it. Later then."

"Later."

"Your mercenary?" Ruth's voice is so unexpected that I drop the phone, twisting around in the chair.

"You are so quiet!"

Shrugging, Ruth pads over, looking completely different with bare feet, her hair tousled in all directions, still half-asleep. When she pauses near me, I make an impulsive decision and reach out to pull her into my lap. After a startled moment, she melts into my taller frame.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm hmm. You have a nice bed. Thanks."

"Mac has taken to calling you my mercenary," I explain, enjoying her weight and the soft chuckle she breathes into my hair. "He plays bass with a local band and we're going to meet him later. You'll like him. Great guy."

"Sure, it sounds like fun. Could I borrow your computer for a few minutes to do some shopping? I really did show up with nothing."

"No problem," I agree easily, giving her a squeeze. Then Ruth leans away a bit as though to stand and we're close, so close and the relaxed atmosphere is suddenly thick with an altogether delicious tension.

This time I'm quite sure it is me that moves first, closing my eyes and leaning in to press my curious mouth to hers. And this time I've caught her warm and sleepy and sensual, the pressure of her lips reflecting that. As do the strong hands in my hair, anchoring me to her kisses. There's no escaping the insidious, curious heat coiling in my belly and lower. She tastes earthy and raw with breath heavy and hot.

It's also me that moans first, a thick heavy sound deep in my tightening guts. My libido couldn't give a damn that she's not my usual sexual fare and I'm quite lost in the sensual haze. Panting, Ruth pulls away, pressing her mouth to my cheekbone, holding me immobile with her hands on my skull.

"Damn, Stella," she whispers harshly and I have to grin smugly to myself. Apparently, I like rattling this woman.

"I seem to like kissing you," I comment softly, enjoying the way my quickened breathing heats the small space between our bodies.

"Yeah, got that."

Feeling shy from her sarcasm, I shift in her grip so that we can cuddle loosely, my head cradled on her shoulder. "You make me feel safe and relaxed, Ruth. And I can't explain why I'm so inexplicably attracted to you and I don't want it to ruin our friendship. This is a first for me and I'm determined to not make a big deal that we're both women."

With a tug at my curls, Ruth forces me to look at her and I'm struck by the fierce emotion on her face. "You are unpredictable, Bonasera, and nothing at all what I expected when we became friends. You're also brave and possibly a little crazy."

Shrugging, I smile dreamily at her. "You only live once, right?"

"Right," she agrees with a grin. "Would you like to go dancing? Surely there must be a couple of happenin' places in this little burg."

Swatting her ass, where my hands had very nearly wandered while we were making out, I gasp in mock outrage. "Don't you mock my town, foreigner!"

With our camaraderie once more in full swing, I dig out a rich purple shirt of mine that looks amazing with her pale good looks to replace her business silk. Then I kick her out of the bedroom to shop on the computer while I shower and fuss over my appearance. There's a weird moment as I stare at my collection of shoes, pretty much all of them heeled and I'm suddenly struck that I'm dressing up for a person shorter than me. A woman shorter than me.

The moment of panic is distasteful, but I force myself to examine it closely. After a lifetime of heterosexuality, this abrupt shift has been a little like whiplash, sure. The truth is that I really like Ruth and I'm willing to look past her packaging. Besides if her kisses are any indication, then going further with this is all in my best interests.

"Lindsey is so going to give me crap," I tell my reflection and decide to just go with this new experience. We're both adults and Ruth will tell me if we go too far. So I continue with my preparations, giddy at the possibility of getting laid tonight.

However, in consideration to Ruth's smaller stature, I do chose pants and the same flat-soled boots I've been in all day. They're better for this weather anyway. When I step out to saucily model one of my favorite shirts, Ruth leers appreciatively and I'm glad to see that we're still easy with each other. While I putter for a few more minutes, she finishes up what she's doing to join me in the kitchen. The girlish giggling is not feigned as she embraces me from behind, pressing her face between my shoulder blades for a long moment. It's a tender gesture and I hug my hands over hers until she sighs heavily and then I squirm around until we're face to face.

"Ruth?"

The gentle query makes her smile with that sad, weary edge I've seen before and I press a sweet kiss to her forehead. "You have been such an unexpected delight to me," she murmurs softly and gives me a deep thrill.

"Flatterer. Now come on, you promised a wild night in my little burg."

"Did I?"

"Cheeky."

Oh, and is it a wild night! First we go shopping for Ruth where she once again impresses me with her class. Not just a couple of nice outfits, but a pair of jeans, a bulky sweater that does something impossibly flattering to her body and a handful of lacy things that I'm almost uncomfortably hyped up to see. On her. With nothing else.

Ah well, if this is some sort of early mid-life crisis, being hot and bothered for another sexy member of the species is highly preferable to the alternatives!

A quick trip back to my place where Ruth grabs a military-quick shower and change of clothes that I swear is fifteen minutes in and out, and we're off to flag down a cab. The first guy has about as much personality as a lightpost, so I make Ruth laugh by tossing him a couple bucks at the first red light and hopping out to flag down another. Right there in the street, the next guy leans out his window and hollers for us to get our asses in the car and 'outta the damn street'. He's far more fun and gets us to a high-energy place with good food and a crowd not so young it makes us self-conscious. It makes the fifty dollar bill Ruth negligently tossed him totally worth it.

Some tasty nibblies and a few drinks later, we're sweating in our winter clothes and burst back onto the street where we can actually talk. Not that I have any complaints about the silent conversation we've been having that has me relaxed and warmed up! Once again I steal Ruth's hand to tuck them in my pocket as we seem content to wander and chat for a bit.

"You are so not usually this wild and impulsive," Ruth points out sagely, her grin infectious and her cheeks flushed.

"What, and you are?" I tease back. "Of course I'm not wild and impulsive. I'm a criminologist in the biggest city in America. I work like a dog, I see shit no sane person should see and I have a strong hunch that you've seen even worse." Whirling to stop her progress with my larger body, I stare deeply into the expressive hazel eyes. When I speak, my voice is intense and soft, reflecting my high emotions. "We both need this. We both want this." Leaning in, stunned at my gall, I nuzzle under her ear, nibbling at the strong tendon there, feeling her pulse beat against my lips. "Stop thinking so much."

The noise she makes, a low, feral… something that sounds so like a growl that my adrenaline spikes, is a sound I will never forget. When I slowly pull away, I see that even in the dark night lit by the city that never sleeps, her pupils are pinpricks in a field of wolf gold.

After that, Ruth starts to change slowly. Certain chunks of that implacable armor shift to accommodate me and the hot blaze burning between us. When Mac finishes his set he comes over to be introduced, I can see the bemusement in his eyes at the chemistry, though, of course, he's a perfect gentleman. Just as I suspected, with their similarities in character, Ruth and Mac hit it off like old pals, chatting and laughing. They share a language I don't understand, parts of Mac that have always been foreign to me, parts of Ruth that will always be out of my reach. Rather than take offense, I enjoy the byplay even as I don't fully understand.

With promises for getting together for lunch, work barring of course, we go our separate ways. The teasing, almost leering way Mac watches us leave makes me laugh until I have to pause in the crisp air and catch my breath. "Remind me to swear him to secrecy about this," I giggle, gesturing between us, "Or the guys of my team will never leave me the hell alone."

"A little too much togetherness?"

"Oh yeah. I never had brothers, but they make up for that!"

There's no evening meal, just nibblies here and there as we wander around in the night. A sloppy taco that stains Ruth's beautiful coat and a little pile of buffalo wings that make my eyes water, though it's worth it to share spiced kisses with her, even a touristy corndog. A few beers are shared between us and a frothy concoction of hard alcohols and mixers that is both sweet and tart and oddly refreshing.

So, by the time we find a place with perfect music and a mixed crowd, both of us are relaxed and ready to up the game a notch. As seductions go, I've truthfully never had better than this enigmatic creature. Checking our coats, Ruth and I plunge into the packed dance floor with its pounding music, flashing lights and the anonymity of a crowd.

We know that this dancing is little more than vertical foreplay, but dear lord, is it good. Ruth fits against me nicely, her muscular, lithe frame a good anchor to my longer, more angular build, her mouth tucked beneath my wild curls, breathing hotly under my ear. Our bodies cuddle now like our hands have from the first, my right thigh tucked up against the seam of her new jeans, hers against the persistent itch that she's generated in my body. And her seductive hands rove over my back, drifting lower and lower to tease over the upper curve of hips and ass. I'm so caught up in the whole thing, nerves firing up hotter and hotter, that all I can do is grip the waistband of her jeans and try not to get run in for public indecency.

Eventually, it's just too damn much. Her mouth on my neck, including a damn hot flash of teeth damn her, and the insistent, animal press of her body into mine, those curious hands, the raw need to know exactly what this growing inferno will do to me.

I've dragged Ruth into the biting cold, which slaps some sense into me, before I realize I've even moved. The bouncer grins at my sheepish explanation that I forgot our coats. Yeah, like she doesn't know exactly why I must look a little wild-eyed right about now. Ruth looks a little bewildered herself.

Urgently flagging down a cab as I shakily jerk my coat on, I pause as Ruth starts to speak over the night sounds of my city. "Stella, I…"

Really, she's made me lose my mind some part of me notes in horror as I roughly grab the woman and nearly slam her against the cab that has conveniently stopped there. "Ruth, so help me god, if you don't take me back to my place and fuck me senseless I will go on some sort of homicidal rampage."

Later, when my brains aren't in my pants, I'll be impressed at the widening of her eyes.

By rote, I rattle off my address to the bored cabbie and lean back, delightfully surprised when Ruth takes my right hand in hers. The whole trip I'm kept strung tight, despite silently staring out the windshield, by the hypnotic caress of her fingertips over my knuckles.

Okay, so forty bucks is entirely too much money for the fare, but right now money is the furthest thing from my mind. Even in the elevator, I don't look at Ruth, really, really determined to behave myself in public, dammit. It's perversely amusing as hell that my hand, the one Ruth lets me have, is shaking as I work the deadbolt.

Both of us pause for a moment in the darkness of my apartment, ever alert for personal safety. It's a reaction in Ruth I will process later, just because I'm a curious creature at heart. With the emptiness of the space verified, I get the door closed and the clunk of the deadbolt signals our defenses falling completely.

When Ruth growls, I just about melt into a puddle right there in the tiny foyer. Then she's on me like a starved lion, hands hard on my asscheeks, her teeth locked with mine, her tongue giving me a preview of just what I've signed up for. Fisting up that soft, straight hair in my fingers, I give as good as I get. Raw, blazing hormones get me past a lot of hurdles, the first of which is snaking my grip down to cup the soft tits under her shirt. The startled noise in her throat is hot as hell, as is the way she jerks her head back, conveniently giving me more room to work with, unerringly getting my curious fingertips around the hard nipples tenting the fabric.

"Nice," I hiss greedily, consumed with getting everything I can out of this completely novel experience. Whatever part of me is distantly ranting about propriety and rules and things like that can go to hell. Shoving Ruth fairly roughly gets her to step back, I can strip off her coat, drop my own and go for the hem of her shirt. My inner diva jerks the reins just hard enough to stop me from ripping the fabric, after all it's an expensive shirt, but I do toss it uncaringly towards the kitchenette. Sure enough, I get the odd thrill of seeing her breasts cradled in some of the dark silk I spied at the store. Once again to quiet the words I sense coming, I step in close, ducking down to press my mouth to the hollow of her throat as my hands once more cup that soft flesh.

Poor me, never having done this before. How good she feels! Stroking my thumbs over Ruth's nipples earns a harsh, vulnerable sound that gets me even wetter than I already am. It might have been an attempt at a word, I'm not sure, but she quickly clarifies for me. "Dammit, Stella, bed! Before I collapse. God, you are a wildcat!"

I grumble in protest, but it sounds childish even to my own ears and I concede that the hallway really isn't the best place for this. So I flounce away and peel off my own shirt as I lead the way to the bed.

"Sit," she snarls and I do so willingly. It gets me more kisses without being in the weird position of being the taller one anyway. Then Ruth can step in between my knees, curling her hands around my skull, further tousling my disobedient curls. This time she makes me slow down, soothes down my inherent impatience, her kisses slow and deep, fully exploring the terrain of my mouth. After letting her lead, damping down the searing flames to a simmering burn, I find myself even more turned on, clinging desperately to her ribs and hips at the dizzying seduction.

"_Theh mou (My god)_," is all I can get out coherently as she leaves off her soul kisses to smile at me feline pleasure. It wasn't until finding out about my Greek heritage that my high-emotion reaction to speak in that language made sense. After all, it turns out that it was once my native tongue. Ruth grins in delight at the foreign words and the awed tone they were delivered in. She can go ahead and be smug and gloating, she's earned it in making me feel like this.

"Greek?" She asks softly, gently prodding me to scoot back, to relax into my familiar bed and focus on her building seduction. "Suits your good looks, though not that Italian last name." Barely paying attention to the words, I'm caught up watching her make quick work of my boots and socks quickly followed by her own. "I have to say that I'm completely intimidated by your looks, sexy woman. All these months of intermittent fantasies haven't at all compared to the real thing. I meant it when I called you a wildcat!" The low, rolling chuckle is like a cord tied to my libido, giving it a sharp tweak that makes me whimper. I can't speak right now, I can't concentrate on anything but her and how I feel. "Button, Stella."

It takes a moment for me to comprehend, distracted by that seductive smile. Then I get with the program and manage to fumble open the button on my slacks, jerk the zipper down and wiggle the fabric loose from my hips. Ruth takes care of the rest with a few jerks, tossing them into the dimness of my bedroom. Thankfully, there's enough ambient city light though the windows that we don't have to be distracted by searching for a light.

"Look at how lovely you are," she muses almost conversationally, the weight of her gaze intoxicating. Then, thankfully, she decides that words are overrated and kneels on the edge of the bed to lean over and breathe hotly over my left thigh. It's an animal gesture, her breath now cool on the inhale, drawing my scent through mouth and nose as though learning me. Once again I trust her lead, curbing my impatience by grabbing the pillow on either side of my head and trying to keep the twitching in my legs to a minimum. Like fuel to my fire, she breathes her way up my leg, whispering kisses over my skin here and there, to the point of hipbone, before torturously doing the same up my right limb as well.

That dark chuckle makes my hips jerk, my voice whining into the room, and Ruth presses more demanding kisses to my abdomen, tracing up the bisection of my body, swiping a wet tongue into my navel to make me squeak. Breathe, Stella, breathe, I chant silently in my mind. Ruth is close enough now that I can once again fist my hands in her hair as anchor. When I tug without thinking, she snorts across my skin, once more teasing me with the heat of her breath. Her hands brush my sides, almost tickling, noting my reactions and altering her caresses accordingly.

No lover has ever been this sensitive to me. Ever. And while I'm no slut, I've had my fair share. Those men all fade from my memories at Ruth's continued mastery over my needy body. Her mouth kisses up over the center of my bra, to sternum, to chin. When I yank her into a greedy kiss, she willingly goes along with it, her hands continuing to map my body. Distracted as I am by her kissing, I still have sense enough to caress her back, sidetracked by the feel of her bra, wanting her bare skin, dammit! With dexterity I wouldn't have given myself credit for, I fumble off the little hooks, swallowing her sounds of arousal and amusement.

A few pulled hairs and some girlish giggling later, my own bra is yanked over my head and I pull Ruth close to bask in the feel of her silky skin on mine. "God, you feel good," I murmur hoarsely, stroking her back from nape to waistband. "Where the hell have you been all my life?"

How I love making this normally self-contained woman laugh. It's a throaty, unfettered sound and it makes her strange, color-change eyes go warm and soft. They're grey now, in the shadows of the room as I stare at them when she props herself on her elbows to grin at me. "I can sympathize with that sentiment."

"No big words, Ruth," I whine. "I can't process right now."

The sensations of lovemaking are familiar and yet foreign with this completely different sort of body against mine. But with a patient, insistent hand roving down my body and our shared panting hot and heavy between us, I still know the dance. To impatient and too damn horny to even think about being shy, I pull at Ruth's wrist until she complies. And I follow her fingers under my panties, pulled halfway off my hips anyway, crying out hoarsely in gratitude at her better angle to slip inside, filling that desperate ache. With her gently stroking fingers deep inside and her thumb in coy counterpoint to my own fingers on my clit, I don't last long.

Bet all that noise will have my neighbors banging on the wall for some peace and quiet too. Lassitude spreading in the wake of that delirious release of pressure, I wrap my damp fingers around Ruth's wrist and close my thighs to imprison her.

"Stay," I whisper, feeling parched from the exertion, feeling the knife edge my body is still on.

"Anything you want, gorgeous," Ruth murmurs sweetly, pressing kisses to my chin and throat while my inner reserves gather, energy arrowing down to that spot where we are connected so intimately. "You up for something a little more intense but gentle?" A sharp nip at my clavicle clarifies what she means.

"If you're offering what I think you're offering," I manage to laugh breathlessly, "I may never let you leave this bed."

Chortling to herself, Ruth starts to slither down my body, pressing sloppy kisses here and there. "I can hardly think of a better fate," she flatters at my hissing of her hand jostling my sensitive sex, not quite ready for it yet. "Than being your love slave."

Yes, I can't help but laugh, the sound going strangled and high-pitched when that smart mouth burrows past the darker curls at my groin, tongue slithering deep to find me wet and waiting. I'm still pretty wired and close to another orgasm, but Ruth seems to have other plans, once more testing my impatience. Suckling so gently it's almost annoying, she tests my reactions, pushing me then backing off, setting up a really intense game. Fingers twisting in the grip of my body, she doesn't thrust, just subtly flutters her fingertips, distracting me from my clit. By the time I'm there again, heels digging into the covers hard enough to burn, just about screaming for it, I'm yanking her hair hard enough it will be a miracle if I don't have blonde hairs as a souvenir.

Like a puppet with her strings cut, I'm dead limp, twitching as Ruth slowly pulls her fingers from the grip of my body. I don't sound human as she teasingly thrusts home one more time, shrilling my nerves, before releasing me. With a great, gusty sigh I give into the luxurious lassitude and sprawl out in completely unselfconscious bliss.

Enormously pleased with herself, Ruth tucks herself along my side and trails damp, curious fingers over my chest and belly. Not to arouse, just to feel. The tickly sensation is comforting, as is her solid weight pressed close. Once the room stops spinning I nuzzle into her wrecked hair, noting how sweaty she is, liking the smell and texture. "You smell good," I giggle. "And like my shampoo. It's sexier on you though." In a rush, I find some kind of second wind, twisting to sprawl out over Ruth's body, nearly sending us both crashing to the floor. "My turn," I growl and kiss her for all I'm worth. Aggressively, I draw my knees up, carrying her thighs with them, pressing her groin tight to my abs. Annoyed and amused, I pull back to glare at her. "Ruth, seriously, are you still wearing your pants? I think after that trip to the moon, I can handle you naked."

She's still gawking as I sit back on my heels to yank open her fly, curl my hands under her ass and start peeling off the stiffly new denim. Much as I like ogling the fancy lingerie on her body, I'm taking the panties with the whole mess. Maybe I can get her to model them later, when I'm not so hungry for her. Right now, I just want her bare to my eyes and my touch.

There's a faint self-consciousness as Ruth's freed legs drop to either side of me and I can toss away the jeans. So I rest my hands on her belly, cupped around her navel. Time has softened her a bit, but the muscles are tight beneath that yielding layer. I'm sticking with my early-mid forties guess, though in the kind of shape someone half her age can envy. Not wanting her to think I'm hesitating I lean into the cradle of her thighs, liking the tickle of her pubes and press my open mouth to her sternum. That's as good a place to start as any.

The smooth softness of her skin amazes me. Not to mention her delicate scent, stronger towards where she's wet and needy. But not so different as to alienate my attentions! With a best effort to set aside preconceived notions of being a lover, I dive into this wholeheartedly.

At first, Ruth is fairly quiet, even if her breathing is fast and harsh. She doesn't talk, but lets me learn the way I want to, by the subtleties of her body's reactions to my touch. We're both visceral creatures beneath the civilized veneer. That's one of things that attracted me to her in the first place. Oh sure, she's slick and cool and corporate on the outside, but she's a dangerous tiger underneath.

No longer dry mouthed, I map as much soft skin as I can reach in this kneeling position, hunched over her prone body. It's intoxicating and I'm greedy for everything I can get. The clavicles make her squirm, a funny strangled noise escaping when I nip at one before abruptly dropping my head to find a stiff nipple. Nothing at all like my male lovers, nope. Exhaling sharply, Ruth takes a death grip on my comforter and I can feel my ego fluff up with pride. Sure, I have only my own likes and dislikes to base my performance on, but I'm a smart cookie and quickly start adapting. She likes a gentler touch than I, she responds better to that, a more honest set of reactions. When I suck too hard, she stiffens that faintest bit, but melts into the bed when I gentle. No shock that she's a lover of subtleties.

The first time she completely loses control takes me by surprise. Not a hotspot one would assume, but the nearly hidden curve of pectoralis major, the big muscle that anchors sternum and clavicle to the humerous bone. That makes her deltoid and bicep stand out in stark relief, her whole body arching up, the strangled animal noise suddenly loud in my ears. Mindful to be gentle, but firm, I mouth that curve of muscle just at the outside edge of her breast, thrilled with her reactions.

"Stel," she rasps and I'm instantly concerned with the desperate edge in her voice.

"Hey," I whisper, instantly face to face with her, sexy thoughts evaporated at the freaked-out look on her face. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

Struggling for control, Ruth shakes her head and seems frustrated, not with me, but herself. "I," her voice cracks alarmingly and I wisely swallow any amusement. "I think I'm just a little over stimulated."

"Okay," I'm surprised at my ready acceptance of this change in plans, shifting my weight to one side, a leg thrown over her hips, cuddling her slender, strong body close. It takes a moment to realize that she's fallen strangely silent, a catch in her breathing. So I prop myself on an elbow and stroke her strong features, noting the sheen of tears in her eyes. "I'll take the ego stroke that I reduced you to making me stop."

Ruth looks half amused and half irritated and I grope for something to say. So I settle for a gentle, friendly kiss, reaffirming that I really like how we feel together, but not pressuring at all. The tender moment is completely ruined by the suddenly shrill demands of my bladder and I flail away from her seductive body to race for the bathroom.

Much relieved, I drape myself in the doorway and grin at my new lover. "Scrub your back, hot stuff?" I invite cheekily. "Then we can get some sleep since it's…" my strangled sound of horror isn't feigned, "nearly two in the morning. Thank all that's holy Mac gave me tomorrow off."

This new, shy Ruth is adorable, nodding as she stands, swaying for a moment. Yeah, with her arrested arousal cycle, bet she's a little disoriented! Once she's moving towards me, I retreat and get the taps warming. There's little conversation as we stand in the tub and get clean, and I enjoy not just scrubbing Ruth's fine back, but her ragged mop of blonde hair too. Mine is too big a project for a quick shower, but I laughingly promise she can have a crack at it tomorrow when we're both not essentially asleep on our feet.

I finish up first, since Ruth's got wet hair and has to pad out to the kitchen counter for her spankin' new toothbrush, but I wait for her, not wanting any awkwardness between us. As I half suspected, Ruth does indeed look a little wary as she hovers in the doorway of the bathroom, backlit by the bright light.

"We okay?" I ask softly, a hint of entreaty in my tone. Nodding, Ruth kills the light and pads over to sit at the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, we're okay. I just feel a little… like I kept something from you."

Again, I swallow anything cheeky I might have said and reach out to caress her thigh. "Hey, I have no actual assumptions, you know. Let's see what the morning brings, okay?"

It's words enough and Ruth climbs between the sheets and snuggles close. Far from feeling suffocated, I return the embrace and let my body fully relax at last.

**Part 4**

As friends with benefits go, I struck gold that night with Ruth. Well, it started with that first wild night that continued when I woke first the next morning. With some coffee to shore up my annoyed nerves and to clear out the dragon breath, I took advantage of Ruth in that sleepy, relaxed state.

Yeah, those memories still make me smile dirtily months later.

After my carnal experiments in the bed, we managed to get out long enough for a big breakfast with a combined appetite that made us laugh and laugh. We even had the presence of mind to grab a day's worth of groceries. Good thing too, because we didn't leave my apartment again… or get into clothes much. That was a fun not quite twenty-four hours, I have to say.

But hugging her goodbye was tough. Oh, it's not just the explosively delicious sex, though I certainly miss that, but I really like Ruth! And we've never been quite as easy with each other in correspondence since. It's not really noticeable, but it's there. Dammit, I don't want to lose my pal because of a one-night stand!

As if in response to my musings, the computer makes a weird pinging noise. For a moment, I look around in curiosity; after all I'm in my office, at work, where I have never heard that sound. Then I see an unknown window pop up on my monitor and there's a small video image there of a wiry, handsome black man. "Shhh," he says quietly, coupled with the finger to the lips gesture, the sound of his voice clearly coming through the speakers I'd disabled shortly after getting this computer. "I know this is weird, but I'm desperate. This is Alec. Y'know, Ruth's geek?"

My eyebrows chase themselves up my forehead.

Instantly, Alec is explaining in a hurry. "Look, she's been a bear lately and I'd rather not have Elliot slip her something to relax. Could I beg, bribe or steal you? Man, she was such a good mood for awhile there. But it's been a crazy summer, even for us. Come on, a six star vacation courtesy of Ruth's desperate team. Everything's already set up, I just need you to say yes."

Before I can say a word, Mac has pushed open my door and poked his head in. "You okay, Stella? You have a really strange look on your face."

By the time I glance from Mac and back to the screen, the window is gone, but there's a blinking icon in the corner that wasn't there before. Charming. I have a hacker good enough to work as a mercenary on my work computer.

"Hey Mac, I just got a… message that Ruth is under some stress. Her staff apparently is not only desperate enough to contact me for some R&amp;R," my smirk is echoed on Mac's face, "but they're offering me a full meal ticket to go there. Wherever there is."

Right on cue, the computer pings again, this time the 'you've got mail' sound I disabled ages ago. Again Mac and I share a wry look as I pull up an itinerary to…

"Scotland," I tell Mac with some surprise, noting that Alec's video window is open and he looks beseechingly desperate. It's not merely a plane ticket, but something with the fancy title of 'executive business class'. That should make the seven hour flight more tolerable. The length of time above the Atlantic will be boring, but when will I ever get an opportunity like this again? "This is all aboveboard, Alec?" I ask pointedly, making Mac give into his curiosity. Bet his eyebrows just jumped up like mine did earlier as he sees my screen.

"I swear on Bill Gates and all the saints," Alec says fervently after sheepishly waving to Mac. "Bet you guys didn't realize there were cameras built into these models, huh? Little black dot, top center." A glance at the top of the monitor does reveal a hole no bigger than the head of a straight pin.

"Scary thought," is all Mac says.

"I know this is unorthodox, but would you have believed me any other way? I'm not trying to tick you guys off, really, I'm not. This is just the way I operate. Working inside the rules really isn't my MO, y'know? But we'll pay for everything fair and square because we all like Ruth and want her to cheer the hell up. Is that a yes?"

"Give us a moment," Mac says in that voice you just don't disobey and the screen obediently collapses into that strange little icon. Then he shakes his head and gives me his 'concerned older brother' face. "Interesting group you've fallen into."

"Oh yeah."

"Are you comfortable with this?"

It's an interesting question actually. I am not the 'cloak and dagger' type. Too much deception and intrigue, the crap I normally reduce to the common denominator, quantify with science and investigation. Yet, for some reason, I trust Ruth as an entity separate from whatever her strange, shadowy life is. It takes some halting words to explain myself, but Mac nods in understanding. After all, no being knows me as well as he does.

"Let me go check the roster and see what we can give you. Tell your hacker," the distaste on that word makes me grin, "to hang on for a bit." At the door, Mac pauses to grin at me. "And then tell him to get out, cover his tracks and never, ever do that again."

So here I am, avidly watching the brown and green of the United Kingdom roll away beneath me as we drop and drop. Racing into the rising sun most of the flight has been as bizarre as only losing two hours to a seven hour flight, but I shrug it off and adjust my watch accordingly. Tiredness has never stopped me before, though night suddenly being day will take a few days of adapting.

Disembark is no big deal as I deliberately packed light enough to only have a bulky carryon. Now, to find my ride.

Elliot, for it must be him holding a neatly printed card with my last name on it, doesn't look happy to be demoted to errand boy, but perks up when I approach. There's no mistaking his instant interest either, though he immediately squashes the reaction. This role of the boss' girl is girl is kind of amusing actually.

"Detective," he greets me politely and I grin wickedly at him.

"Elliot."

"Any luggage?"

"Nope. Didn't figure I'd need much in the way of clothes."

Bet not many people make a hardened warrior like him goggle in astonishment like that. Chortling in purely evil feline amusement, I gesture that he should lead the way and his expression is more respectful than it was before.

"No Parker?" I ask conversationally as we step into the open air and I take a deep lungful of this foreign place. Darn, it just smells like a city. Oh well.

"No. She's already found entertainment," Elliot growls. "Don't know how she does that either. Ever since she figured out she could have sex with girls, they flock to her like… like… Man, I don't even have a good analogy."

Chuckling, I tease, "Girls are fun. Or I wouldn't have just jumped on a transatlantic flight on the whim of a confessed hacker."

His strangled noise makes me laugh all the way to the car.

To my surprise, Elliot doesn't head for the actual city just to the east, but northwest on a highway marked 'M9'. It quickly takes us to a seaside town named Queensferry, where we skirt the town to a small industrial district. It's half old brick and half newer construction and Elliot pulls the car into one of the latter.

"Hey," his voice makes me pause before stepping out. Uncomfortable, he doesn't look at me, but speaks in a low, hurried tone. "Thanks for bein' here for Ruth. It must be weird for you I know. And we really like her and we're glad you're here. Now get out before I die of embarrassment. Through those doors there, Hardison's already got you in the system."

I don't even get the car door shut before he's off with a chirp of tires and I'm left alone. Well then… off into the unknown. Through the double industrial doors is a surprise; a hallway/foyer of sorts that is clearly part of the old buildings. It's empty and I take Elliot's words to heart and head for another nearby door, hearing a strange whirring and clicking as I push through. Assumably a security system of some sort, supplies my investigator brain.

Now it's a living space. Great windows take full benefit of the view from atop the rolling hills to the glinting sea beyond. A wonderful breeze wafts through the space, not a sty but certainly well lived in.

Also empty.

So I set my bag on the couch and stand very still for a long moment, casting out with my other senses. Despite the distraction of the new and fascinating smells of this strange country, my ears win out, catching faint sounds nearby. Harsh sounds of a body working hard. That leads me to sliding glass door overlooking the hills to the east with the smear of smog that must be Edinburgh.

There's what looks like an old barn, of all the odd things and I quietly walk over, following my ears.

Then I see Ruth and my mouth goes dry.

In the warm dim of the ancient space, she's set up a workout area. On a mat of dusty hay, my fit lover, wet with sweat, is methodically and expertly beating the crap out of a heavy, oddly shaped punching bag. She's not in heavy gloves like a pro fight, but something thinly padded that leaves her clenched fingers exposed. There's more strength in that slender body that I had given her credit for, that hint of stockiness translating into some real movement of the weighty bag.

In a split second, Ruth catches my movement, whipping around in a defensive crouch that makes me glad I'm well out of reach. Then the hazel eyes widen comically and I put on my best seductive grin. "Seems your staff was concerned about you," I muse conversationally and circle her slowly, never breaking eye contact. "Care to take a mental health day with me?"

The moment I'm in reach, she grabs me roughly, crushing me to her, kissing me breathless. The long flight, the strange surroundings, the jet lag, the fucked up time change, all that is forgotten as I hang onto her strong frame and give as good as I get.

With barely a breath between us, Ruth murmurs, "What? How?"

Chuckling darkly, I slip my hands down to stroke her hips and ass, over her back and sweaty hair. "Alec hacked my work computer, the punk, and begged and pleaded for me to come give you some TLC. Elliot picked me up at the airport and practically tossed me out of the car with an embarrassed but heartfelt thank you."

When something presses to my knees, I recall a bale of hay there and sit, pulling Ruth with me. Obediently, still a little stupid with surprise, she obeys, straddling my lap, still fondling my hair. "You're really here," she murmurs softly with a goofy, shy grin, cupping my face to stroke thumbs over my nose and cheekbones.

"I've missed you, Ruth. There was no way I was going to turn down such a lovely offer. Unless Mac had been a jerk and not scrounged up a whole ten days of leave time for me."

"Remind me to thank him," she whispers and returns to kissing me, which is just fine. Conversation can wait; right now I have more important things to do. Now, last time Ruth got to be the leader as I learned my way through this new dimension of lovemaking. Not so this time, for I intend to use my better position and her lingering confusion to my advantage. So I keep up the kisses, roving my hands over her, relearning her curves. Kneading that delightful rear end gets her hips rocking, echoed in that throaty growl I love.

To the low mantra of my name repeated over and over, I get her already wet and panting body even more worked up. An imperious shove makes Ruth lean back on her heels and I pull off the damp t-shirt and soaked sports bra beneath, allowing me access to her gorgeous chest. While I suckle and nip, she arches her head back, which rocks her hips back slightly and I can yank the drawstrings of her sweats and worm a hand beneath the fabric. Thankfully her underwear is something silky and stretchy and I have a little maneuvering space in the wet inferno hiding there.

Breathing like an Olympic athlete, Ruth is up on her knees now, and while I'm a little disappointed to have her breasts out of reach, now I can mouth the muscles of her torso, standing out in stark relief from her interrupted workout and our current athletics. One hand in my hair, the other on the double stack of bales beside us, Ruth jerks her hips against my exploring hand, the sweats falling, her underwear twisted mostly out of the way. Thrusting deep, I let my thumb feel for her clit, stroking gently and firmly both inside and out.

It's a full body experience, with her whole frame writhing against mine, and the burn in my hand and forearm, working hard in such an awkward position. But I doubt my lover will last long at the rate she's going.

Sure enough, with a crushing grip on my skull and a strangled, primeval sound, Ruth climaxes, her body gripping tight to my fondling hand. As she starts to melt into my body, I twist us both a bit so that I can lean back against the bale beside us, coaxing her softening body along with me. Then I tug her underwear and sweats into just enough order to not cut off circulation and settle in for some much needed cuddling.

"Welcome to Scotland," she mumbles against my ear and I just laugh.

Hours and hours later, the sun is setting spectacularly over the Firth of Forth-- such a goofy, long name for that gorgeous body of water out there-- and Edinburgh, turning the hills to gold. As hoped, I have been well and truly fucked silly and I'm perfectly content to sprawl out on the queen-sized bed and watch Ruth cook. I'm so exhausted by the time difference and the flight and the carnal activities that I suspect that I'm halfway to hallucinating, but I don't want to miss out on whatever smells so damn yummy. Besides, I love watching Ruth completely at ease like this.

She's in a tank top and silk shorts because she protested that there might be people in nearby buildings and she might get scalded. With much pouting, I let her get just that dressed, but threatened her to not cover up any more. She'd chuckled at my bossiness and mocked me, but complied willingly enough.

"Hey baby," that loving voice coaxes me from a doze and I jerk my head up, disoriented. "You are really wiped out."

"Mmm hmm," I yawn and eye the bowls in her hand. "Now feed me before I drop dead."

The drapes are drawn over the near darkness, fluttering in the breeze that smells of the North Sea. My late dinner is a lightly breaded chicken parmesan with the tastiest noodles I've ever eaten.

"Are these handmade?" I marvel and Ruth, settled comfortably beside me, grins almost shyly and nods. "God, this is delicious."

"You're just starving," she chuckles but easily accepts my sloppy kiss to her chin, leaving a faint smear of sauce behind. No problem, I'll just lick it off later.

"That too. But it's still damn yummy."

We've spent the entire day in this great little bachelor pad she's got on the second floor of the converted industrial space. It's airy and neat and comfortably furnished in that same elegant style I associate with her, the walls left bare brick. There aren't a lot of personal touches outside of furnishings, but that suits Ruth as well. We've reached an agreement that I have no desire or need for details about what she does and nothing in the apartment threatens that accord. Bet that office would if I were nosy, but I won't test the theory. Our worlds will remain separate, our existences outside of this periodic coming together for our special brand of R&amp;R.

In the meantime, I have ten blissfully work-free days and two whole weekends to blow as I see fit in a gorgeous country with my hot lover, and at least the top notch flight is on someone else's dime. Setting the empty bowl on the bedstand and taking a swallow of the fine merlot we've been nursing all day, I sprawl back into the disheveled bed and indulge in a full-body cat stretch that leaves me light-headed and giggly. Quickly gathering our dishes, Ruth tosses them into the sink and returns to the bed, stripping off her shirt, to my delight. The shorts follow suit and she playfully plants wet kisses up my relaxed body, making me giggle. Then she snuggles imperiously into my longer body, wrapped around me possessively and settles in.

Neither of us has a clue exactly what this is. Maybe someday, we'll have to start making definitions and promises. Clicking the light off, I cradle my lover close and let myself give in to the exhaustion.

Tonight, just being together is more than enough.


End file.
